Poetry

luka

Well-known member
Staff member
i didnt say i am moved i said the subject matter was emotion, mood and atmosphere. what it deals with describes and evokes.
 

luka

Well-known member
Staff member
Half past twelve. The hours have passed quickly
since nine o'clock when I lit the lamp
and sat down ,here. I've been sitting without reading,
without talking. To whom could I talk,
all alone within this house!

ITS NIGHT TIME(THE LAMP IS ON) THE POOR CUNT IS ALL ALONE IN HES HOUSE JUST FUCKING SITTING THERE DOING FUCK ALL NOT EVEN READING

The image of my young body,
since nine o'clock when I lit the lamp,
came and found me and reminded me
of closed, perfumed rooms
and past sensual pleasure-what audacious pleasure!
And also brought before my eyes
streets that have since become unrecognizable;
night clubs full of life that now are closed,
and theatres and cafes that once used to be.
THE POOR CUNT IS NOT YOUNG ANY MORE NO ONES GUNA FANCY HIM ANY MORE HES AN OLD CUNT. WHEN HE WAS A YOUNG LAD HE WAS SHAGGING LEFT RIGHT AND CENTRE BUT NO ONE WANTS SEX WITH AN OLD CUNT. TIME MOVES ON. THINGS CHANGE. WE CANT FIND OUR WAY BACK TO THE PAST. THATS SAD ISNT IT?

The image of my young body
came back and brought to mind also sad memories;
family mournings, separations,
feelings of my dear ones, feelings
of the dead, so little appreciated.
YES. IT'S SAD.

Half past twelve. How the hours have passed.
Half past twelve. How have the years gone by.
TIME KEEPS ON SLIPPING AWAY. SAD INNIT

ITS NOT FUCKING HARD IS IT
 

baboon2004

Darned cockwombles.
Have to say that poem does little for me from either a formal or intellectual perspective - which isn't to say that it hasn't got these things to offer, I just am struggling to see it. I'm sure it's altogether too subtle.

To quote Foreigner, 'I want you to show me'.
"I gotta take a little time
A little time to think things over
I better read between the lines
In case I need it when I'm older"
 

Corpsey

call me big papa
I've noticed too that he uses the phrase

'also sad memories;'

It's a cue to feel sad!

'Where did the time go, eh? Where did it go?'

Sad!
 

luka

Well-known member
Staff member
im not worried about you not feeling anything. that's neither here nor there. im concerned that you couldnt work out what the poem was about when it's perfectly straightforward and clearcut.
 

luka

Well-known member
Staff member
are you looking to have some kind of aesthetic experience like youre a 19th century swooning decadent? you want it to do something to you? like some kind of hand-job while you passively recline there, pants down, sighing? is that how you think this stuff works?
 

woops

is not like other people
my guide how to reading a poem by woops

(1) buy a copy of ezra pound's selected poems and translations. this may be one of the most expensive books you'll buy in your life but ezra pound innit
(2) read canto 1
(3) think wtf
(4) read it again
(5) read it again
(6) optionally wait a week or a month
(7) read it again
(8) find it is still heavy and mad if not more so than 1st reading
(9) try to read canto 2
 

luka

Well-known member
Staff member
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/54314/canto-i

And then went down to the ship,
Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea, and
We set up mast and sail on that swart ship,
Bore sheep aboard her, and our bodies also
Heavy with weeping, and winds from sternward
Bore us out onward with bellying canvas,
Circe’s this craft, the trim-coifed goddess.
Then sat we amidships, wind jamming the tiller,
Thus with stretched sail, we went over sea till day’s end.
Sun to his slumber, shadows o’er all the ocean,
Came we then to the bounds of deepest water,
To the Kimmerian lands, and peopled cities
Covered with close-webbed mist, unpierced ever
With glitter of sun-rays
Nor with stars stretched, nor looking back from heaven
Swartest night stretched over wretched men there.
The ocean flowing backward, came we then to the place
Aforesaid by Circe.
Here did they rites, Perimedes and Eurylochus,
And drawing sword from my hip
I dug the ell-square pitkin;
Poured we libations unto each the dead,
First mead and then sweet wine, water mixed with white flour.
Then prayed I many a prayer to the sickly death’s-heads;
As set in Ithaca, sterile bulls of the best
For sacrifice, heaping the pyre with goods,
A sheep to Tiresias only, black and a bell-sheep.
Dark blood flowed in the fosse,
Souls out of Erebus, cadaverous dead, of brides
Of youths and of the old who had borne much;
Souls stained with recent tears, girls tender,
Men many, mauled with bronze lance heads,
Battle spoil, bearing yet dreory arms,
These many crowded about me; with shouting,
Pallor upon me, cried to my men for more beasts;
Slaughtered the herds, sheep slain of bronze;
Poured ointment, cried to the gods,
To Pluto the strong, and praised Proserpine;
Unsheathed the narrow sword,
I sat to keep off the impetuous impotent dead,
Till I should hear Tiresias.
But first Elpenor came, our friend Elpenor,
Unburied, cast on the wide earth,
Limbs that we left in the house of Circe,
Unwept, unwrapped in sepulchre, since toils urged other.
Pitiful spirit. And I cried in hurried speech:
“Elpenor, how art thou come to this dark coast?
“Cam’st thou afoot, outstripping seamen?”
And he in heavy speech:
“Ill fate and abundant wine. I slept in Circe’s ingle.
“Going down the long ladder unguarded,
“I fell against the buttress,
“Shattered the nape-nerve, the soul sought Avernus.
“But thou, O King, I bid remember me, unwept, unburied,
“Heap up mine arms, be tomb by sea-bord, and inscribed:
“A man of no fortune, and with a name to come.
“And set my oar up, that I swung mid fellows.”

And Anticlea came, whom I beat off, and then Tiresias Theban,
Holding his golden wand, knew me, and spoke first:
“A second time? why? man of ill star,
“Facing the sunless dead and this joyless region?
“Stand from the fosse, leave me my bloody bever
“For soothsay.”
And I stepped back,
And he strong with the blood, said then: “Odysseus
“Shalt return through spiteful Neptune, over dark seas,
“Lose all companions.” And then Anticlea came.
Lie quiet Divus. I mean, that is Andreas Divus,
In officina Wecheli, 1538, out of Homer.
And he sailed, by Sirens and thence outward and away
And unto Circe.
Venerandam,
In the Cretan’s phrase, with the golden crown, Aphrodite,
Cypri munimenta sortita est, mirthful, orichalchi, with golden
Girdles and breast bands, thou with dark eyelids
Bearing the golden bough of Argicida. So that:
 

woops

is not like other people
well i don't think you need to know much to see that this is great. heavyweight. the language is free in an authoritative way if not classical. the mythology is thick and fast and free. who's narrating. so many great lines.
 

woops

is not like other people
more detail

He starts with complete authority in media res by a single word, then off on a journey by a heavy synecdoche.

I can't help pointing out he breaks the rules by ending line 2 with "and". but it recapitulates the opening word.

"the godly sea" well the sea, like nature, can be said to have the power of a god. And in mythology it is (or has) a god. So you know this is mythology we're talking.

A "swart" ship. I haven't looked this word up but you know, or think you know, what it means, broad and strong, like the word. Is it Old English. Who is speaking.

Look at the way he breaks the lines and the meaning. Look at this single line.

"Heavy with weeping, and winds from sternward"

Ideal in context and alone.

"Bore us out onward with bellying canvas,
Circe’s this craft"

No grammar lets you run the sentence on like that but so what? It's just heavy image after image.

"trim-coifed goddess"

An epithet straight out of Homer that.

And that's the first sentence nice 1
 

luka

Well-known member
Staff member
it's Odysseus speaking. it's a translation of book11 of the Odyssey. The Nekuia. Odysseus performs a rite to summon the dead and to speak to them. He wishes to speak to Tiresias but Elpenor comes first.
the story breaks to acknowledge the translator Pound is using, Andreas Divus. otherwise it's straightforward. i dont think you need to know much more than that.

Lie quiet Divus. I mean, that is Andreas Divus,
In officina Wecheli, 1538, out of Homer.


And then went down to the ship,
Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea, and
We set up mast and sail on that swart ship,
Bore sheep aboard her, and our bodies also
Heavy with weeping, and winds from sternward
Bore us out onward with bellying canvas,
Circe’s this craft, the trim-coifed goddess.
Then sat we amidships, wind jamming the tiller,
Thus with stretched sail, we went over sea till day’s end.
Sun to his slumber, shadows o’er all the ocean,
Came we then to the bounds of deepest water,
To the Kimmerian lands, and peopled cities
Covered with close-webbed mist, unpierced ever
With glitter of sun-rays
Nor with stars stretched, nor looking back from heaven
Swartest night stretched over wretched men there.
The ocean flowing backward, came we then to the place
Aforesaid by Circe.
Here did they rites, Perimedes and Eurylochus,
And drawing sword from my hip
I dug the ell-square pitkin;
Poured we libations unto each the dead,
First mead and then sweet wine, water mixed with white flour.
Then prayed I many a prayer to the sickly death’s-heads;
As set in Ithaca, sterile bulls of the best
For sacrifice, heaping the pyre with goods,
A sheep to Tiresias only, black and a bell-sheep.
Dark blood flowed in the fosse,
Souls out of Erebus, cadaverous dead, of brides
Of youths and of the old who had borne much;
Souls stained with recent tears, girls tender,
Men many, mauled with bronze lance heads,
Battle spoil, bearing yet dreory arms,
These many crowded about me; with shouting,
Pallor upon me, cried to my men for more beasts;
Slaughtered the herds, sheep slain of bronze;
Poured ointment, cried to the gods,
To Pluto the strong, and praised Proserpine;
Unsheathed the narrow sword,
I sat to keep off the impetuous impotent dead,
Till I should hear Tiresias.
But first Elpenor came, our friend Elpenor,
Unburied, cast on the wide earth,
Limbs that we left in the house of Circe,
Unwept, unwrapped in sepulchre, since toils urged other.
Pitiful spirit. And I cried in hurried speech:
“Elpenor, how art thou come to this dark coast?
“Cam’st thou afoot, outstripping seamen?”
And he in heavy speech:
“Ill fate and abundant wine. I slept in Circe’s ingle.
“Going down the long ladder unguarded,
“I fell against the buttress,
“Shattered the nape-nerve, the soul sought Avernus.
“But thou, O King, I bid remember me, unwept, unburied,
“Heap up mine arms, be tomb by sea-bord, and inscribed:
“A man of no fortune, and with a name to come.
“And set my oar up, that I swung mid fellows.”

And Anticlea came, whom I beat off, and then Tiresias Theban,
Holding his golden wand, knew me, and spoke first:
“A second time? why? man of ill star,
“Facing the sunless dead and this joyless region?
“Stand from the fosse, leave me my bloody bever
“For soothsay.”
And I stepped back,
And he strong with the blood, said then: “Odysseus
“Shalt return through spiteful Neptune, over dark seas,
“Lose all companions.” And then Anticlea came.
Lie quiet Divus. I mean, that is Andreas Divus,
In officina Wecheli, 1538, out of Homer.
And he sailed, by Sirens and thence outward and away
And unto Circe.
Venerandam,
In the Cretan’s phrase, with the golden crown, Aphrodite,
Cypri munimenta sortita est, mirthful, orichalchi, with golden
Girdles and breast bands, thou with dark eyelids
Bearing the golden bough of Argicida. So that:
 
Last edited:

luka

Well-known member
Staff member
Is it Old English.

yeah it deliberately echoes his translation of the seafarer i think (assume ive got the chronology right)
it's about origins so the old english goes in there alongside homer. lots of old english alliteration
 

luka

Well-known member
Staff member
for what it's worth chapman starts like this

Our mast up, put forth sail, and in did get
Our late-got cattle. Up our sails, we went,
My wayward fellows mourning now th' event.
A good companion yet, a foreright wind, 5
Circe (the excellent utterer of her mind)
Supplied our murmuring consorts with, that was
Both speed and guide to our adventurous pass.
All day our sails stood to the winds, and made
Our voyage prosp'rous. Sun then set, and shade 10
All ways obscuring, on the bounds we fell
Of deep Oceanus, where people dwell
Whom a perpetual cloud obscures outright,
To whom the cheerful sun lends never light,
Nor when he mounts the star-sustaining heaven, 15
Nor when he stoops earth, and sets up the even,
But night holds fix'd wings, feather'd all with banes,
Above those most unblest Cimmerians.
Here drew we up our ship, our sheep withdrew,
And walk'd the shore till we attain'd the view 20
Of that sad region Circe had foreshow'd;
And then the sacred offerings to be vow'd
Eurylochus and Persimedes bore.
When I my sword drew, and earth's womb did gore
Till I a pit digg'd of a cubit round, 25
Which with the liquid sacrifice we crown'd,
First honey mix'd with wine, then sweet wine neat,
Then water pour'd in, last the flour of wheat.
Much I importuned then the weak-neck'd dead,
And vow'd, when I the barren soil should tread 30
Of cliffy Ithaca, amidst my hall
To kill a heifer, my clear best of all,
And give in off'ring, on a pile composed
Of all the choice goods my whole house enclosed.
And to Tiresias himself, alone, 35
A sheep coal-black, and the selectest one
Of all my flocks.

https://www.bartleby.com/111/chapman24.html
 
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